


The Star of David

by yun_channie



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Moving On, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Wakes & Funerals, i had a lot of feels about stan's death so have this, or even for stanley whichever you prefer, richie's feelings for eddie are kinda implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22901011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yun_channie/pseuds/yun_channie
Summary: You need to move on from things that absolutely break you, to then rebuild yourself. For some, it is to lose two of your childhood best friends within a small time period.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Kudos: 3





	The Star of David

This isn’t the reason why he wanted to come to Atlanta. It was not his intention to fly here for a funeral, the burial of his childhood best friend who has passed so suddenly for all of them to truly process. Throughout the whole ride there, Richie’s stomach was whirling, threatening to spill its contents (or lack thereof). If he thought about it, he still has not been able to believe that all of this has actually happened – the whole ordeal in Derry, them killing It for good this time...   
𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦...   
Eddie Kaspbrak’s face and name have popped up way too many times in his mind ever since it all went down. Stan was enough to lose… and then Eddie died in his arms and he couldn’t even get him out to give him the proper goodbye that he deserved. He has lost count of how many times he had to stop while driving, because his tears and his sobs were too much to push back. The trauma of It is big in him now. The dents, the cuts it has left in his soul and his sanity, are so deep that no amount of alcohol, crying or even drugs could fix it.

Even while he forgot what had happened when he was little, throughout his 20s and early 30s, the dread and the terror were still very much burned into him, he just… could not explain the cause of them.   
He couldn’t explain why the sight of a red balloon or a circus gave him a nauseating feeling. Why, when he passed by sewer drains, he just had to keep a careful eye on them, in case something wanted to pop up. He didn’t know 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 could even just appear out of there, but he did know that it wasn’t good. 

Now not only this injury of his soul has become worse, he hasn’t forgotten it. None of it. In every waking moment, he thinks about what happened. Of what’s left behind and of what’s gone for eternity. The thought and the memories plague him, causing him to fall back into the pathetic state he used to be in as a young adult, even with people by his side now. Back then, he was on his own. Even his first manager dropped him because of the mess he has dragged himself into by binge drinking. He’s mad at himself for having had fallen back into this horribly destructive habit, however he has no other idea of numbing his excruciating agony. This time around, though, Beverly is a frequent visitor of his and someone, who tries to make sure that Richie doesn’t get himself into a hospital due to alcohol poisoning. And Richie feels like a ｂｕｒｄｅｎ. Everyone is hurting, they are all struggling and Richie is being looked after as if he was a child. He has even tried pushing Bev and Ben away, telling them that he was fine and that he didn’t need ‘caretakers’, but despite that, they always came back.   
Of course they did. Richie has come to accept it after a while and actually has begun opening his arms towards them to receive their help, even if, right now, his addiction hasn’t ceased. 

He arrives to Atlanta the day before, and he spends the day mostly on the streets of the city. Walking around aimlessly. Thinking. He really, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 just doesn’t want to be here – at least not for this reason.   
Fuck, he’s not sure if he is going to be able to do this.   
He has to. He needs to grow a pair and not run away, like he was going to do back in Derry the second time they were there to fight It. But man, how much he wanted to jump into his car and just… escape. Ignore what’s happening, ignore reality and go back to LA, to his career, to fame and just hope that he would forget everything. 

‘𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘗𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵? 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘮𝘦, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘱.’  
‘𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦. 𝘈𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵.’  
‘𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘯… 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦. 𝘈𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘌𝘥𝘴.’

On the day of the funeral, Richie is 𝙚𝙭𝙝𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙, physically and mentally. He hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep, his appetite has now demolished to absolutely zero from the bare minimum he had for the past week, and his pale complexion now draws him as a ghost, as a mere shell of who he truly is. As if all life has been sucked out of him from the way he turned from one side to the other during the night. Like he was trying to shake his thoughts out of his head. No matter what, though, the morning has still dawned and the day they all have been dreading, has arrived. The Losers arrive to the cemetery together, they greet Patty and that’s the point where all of it really ｃｌｉｃｋｓ for them – the purpose of this day, their intention of travelling all the way to Georgia.  
To say their final goodbyes to Stan, to Eddie. To have two of their best friends be laid into an eternal rest, even if one of them is just mentioned and thought of. And something breaks inside of all of them… They come to finally accept what happened, their consciousness, at last, deal with the actuality of their past and the tragedies it has ensued. 

The whole service blurs together for Richie, even after it has finished. He finds himself standing around in front of the gravestone, staring at it mindlessly with tears dried onto his cheeks and still wet at the base of his lower lashes. No matter how much he wanted to numb the pain and overlook the circumstances, he is now letting himself mourn. He reads over the engraved text a billion times. He watches over the Star of David on the top of the grave, counting each and every corner of the symbol like a mantra. And his brain is ticking with thoughts, like a bomb about to go off. Richie comes back to reality when a hand is placed onto his shoulder gingerly. He turns his head, locking eyes with Beverly who gives him a pained but comforting smile. He can’t reciprocate it, but he nods – ‘I’ll be with you guys soon’, is what he means. Light eyes filled with unshed tears move back to the gravesite once alone, causing his heart to clench up in the iron fist of absolute devastation. He then looks down at the white lily in his hand. Takes a hesitant step forwards and then squats. He faces the name written onto the headstone – ‘𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓁ℯ𝓎 𝒰𝓇𝒾𝓈’, and he can feel himself choke up.

“…Hey.” Richie’s voice is hoarse, as if he hasn’t used it in ages. He clears his throat to ease the sandpapery sensation. “I wish… this wasn’t the situation where I’ve got to see you again. Kind of. I can’t 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 see you, can I?” A dry laugh, which lacks actual humor, slips through his lips. “Either way… I’m sorry, you know? I’m sorry I… well, 𝙬𝙚 couldn’t be there for you. We couldn’t… pull you out of this. Though, I feel like you wouldn’t have cared, honestly. You were selfish like that. I mean this both as an insult and not, you probably get it. I do hope that… somewhere inside, you regret it. Because this was a shitty move, Stanley.”

God, he can’t control his emotions anymore and he doesn’t want to. Fat, hot tears are rolling down his face, along his cheekbones and his jaw before they drop and sink into the fresh soil laying beneath his feet. “You would have rocked there… in Derry… I know it. But you just… had to dip out. You even said it yourself, in the letter. But 𝙬𝙝𝙮? Why did you feel the 𝙉𝙀𝙀𝘿 to do this?” His head drops helplessly, sighing to push down a pathetic hic.  
“We lost Eddie. He was… trying to protect me. Save me. And I saw it. I saw it happen while… while It had me. And I didn’t act 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, Stan, I…” Frustratedly, he rubs the base of his palm against his eyes as he lifts his glasses up from his face slightly. “…I wish I could have saved him at least. If I failed to do that with you. I… wish we would have kept talking, 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬… And if I didn’t… get caught up in my work… Maybe I c-could have… 𝙙-𝙙𝙤𝙣𝙚 something!” And he lets his grief take over him. He allows those sobs to escape, as he is now kneeling in front of the tomb. He is shaking in his entire body as guilt, frustration and heartbreak overwhelm his broken soul. Richie feels helpless in this. And it is evident to him, that right now, he doesn’t know how he is supposed to move on with life. How he is meant to live when two of his friends, one of which he has had deep, warm feelings for, are gone forever. 

Richie places the lily down. “I know… that flowers aren’t really… meant to be put onto Jewish graves, but… it felt weird without it.” His knees feel like jello when he stands up. A shaky yet fond smile is painted over his features whilst still staring at the name of the owner of this final home. “… Look out for him, for me. Okay? Tell him that… we miss him. 𝗪𝗲 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂. You don’t know how much.”  
And even though he feels as if he has left a huge chunk of him along with the flower there, like his heart has been stomped on… he knows that now, maybe, he is able to find the 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦 within himself.

That that’s what Stan would have wanted for him.


End file.
